West Wind by Madeline Sloane Read Free Book Online

purse and got out of the car. She wasn't sure if she
should lock it.
    Silly; this isn't Baltimore , she
thought.
    Inside the small restaurant, she told herself
she chose wisely. She selected a fresh garden salad, a bowl of
mushroom barley soup, a multi-grain roll, and a strawberry smoothie
from the surprisingly eclectic menu. "This is wonderful," she
gushed, spooning the last of the soup into her mouth before the
waitress could clear the dishes. "I haven't had soup like this
since … um, never."
    "It's a specialty of ours. We make the best
soups in town. No kidding. You should try the fudge, too. Killer,"
the waitress said, winking.
    "I will. Thanks," she said. "Is it always
this quiet? I'm visiting from out of town."
    "Well, it's too late for the lunch crowd but
it's not normally this deserted," she said, looking out the large
front window.
    Sabrina paid her bill, left a large tip and
took along a serving of fudge for later. She drove by the hotel
and, since it was after three o'clock, checked into her room. She
stashed her suitcase beside the bed and took few minutes to wash
her face, freshen her makeup and brush her hair.
    She changed into a pair of jeans and
sneakers, recalling that Mr. Blair said the boat was stored near a
barn. She grabbed her lightweight black leather coat, and brushed
breadcrumbs off her maroon tailored shirt. She tugged at the
V-neck, now worried that it was too low and too tight.
    "I hope he doesn't think I'm making a pass at
him," she said to her reflection. She double checked her teeth for
stray flecks of pepper, then slid her hotel key card into her back
pocket.
    Back in the Cadillac, Sabrina looked at the
directions, wishing she'd brought a state map along instead of a
one-page computer print out. The instructions to his house were
clear, but what if she made a wrong turn? How would she make it
back to the starting point? She shrugged, and started the car.
    Traffic was still light, and she offered a
brief prayer of thanks. A few minutes later, after turning right,
checking the directions, turning left, checking them again, and
trying to keep her eye on her mileage (how the heck can you go 1.7
miles?), she stopped the car in front of a small, battered
two-story house. In the distance, she saw a barn. Behind that, the
Warren River sparkled.
    She pulled into the unpaved driveway and
parked a few yards from a sagging front porch. As she stepped out
of the car, Mr. Blair, a bent old man in overalls and a faded,
plaid shirt, ambled down the porch steps.
    "Good afternoon," he rasped. "You the Windham
girl I talked with the other day?"
    "Yes sir," she said, extending her hand. His
grasp was strong and his blue eyes twinkled.
    "You're a pretty little thing, aren't
you?"
    "Thank you, Mr. Blair." She gestured with a
nod to the barn. "Is the Zephyrus over there?"
    "Ah yup. Guess you're anxious to see it,
aren't you?"
    "I am. I'm very excited. I've never seen one
of my grandfather's boats before."
    "Eh? Why not?"
    "After he died, my grandmother moved to the
mountains of Pennsylvania. I live in Baltimore, and don't have much
time for recreation."
    "That's too bad. Coming from a sailing family
as you do, you should have blue water in your veins. Well, come on
along."
    He shuffled through the tall grass, his feet
unfailingly finding the path to the barnyard. Sabrina cringed when
the small old man pushed against a heavy wooden gate. She thought
she should lend a shoulder, but then the gate creaked and swung
open. Chickens cackled and raced out the opening of the barn.
    "Don't mind them. They like to nap in here,"
Blair said.
    In the shadows on the side of the barn,
covered with several faded and torn tarps, she could make out a
large lump that must be the sailboat. She tiptoed towards it,
unsure what might be living inside. Blair wasn't as shy. He strode
forward and yanked the tarps off the boat.
    Sabrina gasped. It was chalky white, with
black streaks running down the hull. The bent mast lay across the
cockpit,